Lightberry Heights
by Ryokucha-sensei
Summary: Would Rukia taste as sweet as he had always fantasised? His gaze fell towards her neck. So beautiful. So vulnerable. She was a sovereign's delicacy; a deceptively frail fruit whose warmth held key to wicked promises of unrestrained fulfilment; a safe haven for those scornful of control; a temple for the luxuriously licentious. - [AU] - No, this is not a vampire fic.
1. Chapter 1: Cliché

**Repost after original was deleted. Minor writing changes in the earlier chapters.**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Things may not be accurate to reality or to Bleach. Does not have a beta.**

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**CHAPTER ONE: Cliché **

**14th April 2012 – 0106 hours **

Ever since her first night at Lightberry Heights, Kuchiki Rukia had been hearing the drunken presence from the apartment next door. Although she had yet to meet the neighbour in question, there had been plenty of gossip surrounding the notorious tenant's alcoholic tendencies courtesy of the residents of the apartment complex.

So now, as Rukia looked down at the unconscious, alcohol-reeking man sprawled face down on the staircase, she took it a safe bet she had finally met the elusive neighbour everyone had been talking about. Mindful of not rousing the possibly violent drunk, Rukia carefully manoeuvred her way around the stranger and entered her apartment.

Once inside, Rukia double checked that her locks were safe and secure. However, minutes turned into hours as her conscience became increasingly burdened, progressively undermined by the gradually chilly morning air.

As she lay in her sheets, Rukia tried to convince herself not to carry out what she instinctively wanted to do. At one point, unable to maintain her indifference any longer, she rolled out of bed, and went straight to the door. With every step she took, she hoped that the man had somehow sobered up enough to enter his own apartment. She couldn't imagine freezing to death to be one his agendas when he had over-imbibed that evening.

Yet, to Rukia's frustration, the man was still on the ground, out cold – literally.

Hoping her next move wouldn't be her last, she looked for his keys. The lack of proper illumination from the derelict building made it difficult, and she was suddenly glad that he was not awake to see her blush. It wasn't every day that Rukia came into such close contact with a stranger, much less finding herself in a position to frisk a man's body for his bloody keys.

10 minutes later, after a generous amount of internal cursing at how heavy the man was, she finally managed to set him onto the futon laid out carelessly on the tatami floor.

As she caught her breath, Rukia wondered if she should indulge her curiosity. She couldn't help wanting to know what he looked like. The supposedly heated drunkard she had for a neighbour had been such an enigma. She felt guilty for it. There was something inherently incorrect about watching a completely defenceless man whilst he slept.

However, guilt was almost immediately replaced with disbelief. Make no mistake, the man still reeked of alcohol and looked as dishevelled as a drunkard stereotypically looked, but that aside, the image in front of Rukia could've warmed the heart of any cold blooded animal.

The stranger was endearingly boyish, laying there so relaxed – well he was unconscious, you really couldn't get any more relaxed than that.

Rukia took in his straight, aquiline nose, his slightly parted lips which lead down to a strong chin and masculine jaw. Even his shocking orange hair did nothing to dampen his good looks. If anything, it only added to his appeal, as well as his rumoured irascible nature.

Rukia pondered the colour of his eyes, but a groan from the object of her scrutiny woke her from her stupor, and quickly reminded her that it was way past the time that was appropriate for her to be in the home of an unacquainted man, even if he was her neighbour.

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**14th April 2012 – 0840 hours **

Kurosaki woke up to the same thing he had been waking up to for the past 5 months, a splitting headache. As expected of his chosen form of escapism. He didn't even bother trying to piece together the haphazard memories of the previous night.

However, this morning was different. He had woken up to a glass of water and a packet of aspirin conveniently placed at his side. As he was fairly certain of his non-talent for sleep walking, or the existence of leprechauns, Ichigo figured that the only possible explanation was (c), someone had decided to play the good Samaritan.

The had even left a note, one weighed down by his keys, next to the glass of water he was currently gulping down.

"_Hope your hangover isn't too bad. _

_Good luck! : )"_

Ichigo scoffed at the emoticon. The note had been short, but so infused with cheer that he felt disgustingly saturated by it. '

He crumpled the paper, and threw it against the wall only to have it fall down and roll back to him. Grooves between his brows began to form a scowl as he stared at the note.

"Luck? If such a thing existed, I sure could've used it back then."

* * *

**16th April 2012 – 1255 hours **

"You know, most brides-to-be attend their own cake testing, not send their friend as a proxy", Rukia said to Matsumoto Rangiku.

They were on the sitting in the gardens of Tokyo-Seiretei Private Hospital, Japan's largest, most exclusive hospital. Placed at the top-end of the healthcare industry, the advanced hospital was the go-to establishment for those willing to pay top dollar for cutting-edge treatment and technology, first-rate care and service, and privacy from the media hounds.

Rangiku, nurse and soon to be Mrs Ichimaru Gin, thought that the pair were spending lunch break productively multitasking. Rukia, however, knew that they were having lunch whilst trying to create some kind of cohesive seating plan for the upcoming wedding because her friend hated any form of paperwork. Left to her own, Rangiku would've definitely procrastinated until the very last minute.

"Believe you me, I wanted to. But contract renewals are up this week and at the rate the director's been cutting people… Arghh… It's the worst part about working in the private sector. If only he wasn't such a dick!"

The last comment earned them more than just a few glances, but Rangiku was far from concerned over such social proprieties.

Rukia nodded nonchalantly, not bothering to look up from the papers. She wanted to get the damn thing done and return to her workplace. Rangiku's work woes seemed insignificant.

However, Rangiku continued speaking in an angry whisper, "He's so cold and grumpy! So what if he's loaded and somewhat visually appealing? I'm willing to bet my contract that he's never had a woman who isn't a patient strip for him in his lifetime, that ill-tempered man."

"What do you think about putting Jaegerjaquez here?" Rukia motioned with her pen.

"No, he'll be in Gin's line of sight if he sits there. Put him here. Hey! Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I am," Rukia lied. "Your boss contracted an illness from a stripper right? So, why are you inviting your ex again?"

"You were totally ignoring me!" Rangiku made a face. "If you weren't my best friend I'd totally bash you over the head with a leek right now!" For added effect, she slammed her hand down on the paper Rukia had been mulling over, all the while struggling to maintain an angry façade before breaking into a mirthful smile.

"Sod off…" Rukia's laughed.

It was always refreshing to be around Rangiku. The woman was a part-time loon, and was more opinionated than anyone else he knew, but she was also fun, vivacious, and hilariously honest at times. They were different, yet they somehow balanced each other out. Rukia had always thought of her childhood friend as the peanut to her butter, emphasis on the 'nut'.

"Oh shoot, speak of the orange devil! Gotta run. See you at the dress rehearsal?"

Rukia offered a curt nod before Rangiku ran off. As she did, her violet eyes went straight to the man Rangiku had undoubtedly been referring to. Even without the eye-catching hair, it was impossible to miss him. Rukia realized that he was the type of man whose mere presence dominated the attention of those around him.

Rukia knew that he was large when she had awkwardly lugged him into his apartment, but now, it was obvious that he was well over 6 feet. There was a quiet, almost predatory ferocity in his movements. It harboured a dignified masculinity. Yet, his expression was set in a deep scowl.

Rukia had thought him endearingly boyish, but now, as she watched him in his white coat stalking towards, and then right past her without a hint of recognition, cold and clearly sober, she knew better.

Her neighbour was dangerously sexy.

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**16th April 2012 – 2030 hours **

Impossible.

It had been impossible to get him out of her mind, especially now that she knew the colour of those domineering amber eyes. That afternoon, she had felt her very soul leak through every pore; drawn from her bones, inhaled through the lips of the man she hadn't been able to take her eyes off.

The disequilibrium elicited from the sight of him had felt like an amalgam of fear, thirst and aberrant excitement. It had been giddying, almost disorienting, bordering lunacy.

However, not that Rukia was calm and comfortable in her own home, thoughtlessly ironing her shirts, she wondered about the distinct significance of that encounter.

It hadn't been the first time had seen him. So what had brought about that rush of emotion? What had been different? Had she been attracted to that scowl? The angry look in his eyes? The forceful aura shrouding him which bulldozed through the ambiance as he passed her by?

Preposterous, she wasn't some closet masochist, or a silly schoolgirl so enraptured by the sight of seeing a good looking man.

It had been easy enough to find out his name. Google had done all the work for her. His professional biography had been long and filled to the brim with the standard critical appraisal one would normally expect from an elite of the health industry.

29 years old… University of Tokyo Medical School graduate… Cardiology specialist… Surgical residency at 23 years old… Took over in 2011 as director from Kurosaki Isshin… Member of the Shihoin Clan through maternal parentage…

So why was a thoroughbred like him living in this part of town?

Kurosaki Ichigo was definitely an enigma.

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**20th April 2012 – 1145 hours **

Kurosaki Ichigo downed his glass of bourbon, relishing the familiar burning sensation as the liquor travelled down his throat. He had drunk enough in the past 2 hours to make his liver loathe him for the next 2 days.

He looked at his watch. Quarter to midnight. He could still read the time. He was nowhere near as drunk as he wished to be. But, at least he was numb.

"I'm starting to think you live here." A shaggy blond dressed in something that could only be described as gaudy seated himself in front of Ichigo.

"Would you like me to pay rent, old man?"

"Kid, the amount of money you've spent here trying to drink yourself to death has already earned you your own sofa in my humble establishment". Theatrics came easy to Urahara Kisuke.

"Good to know." Fortunately, Ichigo had the sort of bank account to frequent the luxurious hotel for its overpriced liquor. He liked the solitude and privacy the place afforded him.

"Which is why, as the acting landlord, I'm kicking you out. Permanently."

"Then I'm taking the fucking sofa with me."

Seemingly unperturbed, the older of the two continued, "And don't forget your speech the Shihoin Foundation Charity Ball next month. You didn't-" That managed to get a reaction out of the terse man.

"Don't say that name in front of me!" Ichigo spat through clenched teeth. "Did Yoruichi put you up to this?"

"The only thing your aunt had ever put me up to was making sure that you don't slip into a self-induced coma. I'm kicking you out on my own accord. Isshin may let you do as you like, but the Shihoin Clan has been keeping their eye on you. There's only so much Yoruichi can do to keep them off your back."

"I could care less about that sack-o-shit clan."

"The only reason you're still in charge of that hospital is because that 'sack-o-shit' clan has been keeping your off-duty pastime out of the media. Plus, your mother started the foundation. You owe it to her to at least attend."

"The only reason I'm still in charge of that hospital is because the clan believes keeping up the pretence of nobility is the only thing I'm good for. And don't bring my mother into this. This whole intervention is unnecessary."

"Really? Because from where I'm standing, you're in dire need for someone to save you from this self-indulgent shithole you've landed yourself in."

"Then please feel free to stop standing and take a fucking seat. You're my uncle, but that doesn't give you the right to judge what I chose to indulge in."

Urahara sighed, "Ichigo, you can keep beating up yourself over what happened, but it's not going to change anything."

"I'm not looking to change anything. This self-indulgent shithole I've landed in is just perfect for me".

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**21st April 2012 – 0230 hours **

Ichigo groaned as the pangs of nausea began to surface just as he was about to enter his apartment.

He had left the hotel bar in a fit of pique after Urahara had turned what might've been yet another perfect banal evening into an unfortunate bar hopping exercise. The music had been too loud, people too dopey, and the women too relentless. If he hadn't been so god-damned drunk, he would've been more irritated. Instead, he just felt listless.

Ichigo felt the sudden rush of saliva and knew he was about to be sick. Sure enough, the sounds of purging soon filled the quiet corridor. Resting his head on the wall, Ichigo could only laugh at how pathetic he had become.

The mighty sure had fallen.

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**29th April 2012 – 01030 hours **

_'English muffin in fridge :)' _

The same set-up, the same handwriting. Kurosaki Ichigo sure had one nosy neighbour. This must've been the 6th time he had woken up in bed when he shouldn't have had. It was a nice sentiment, but even he could see that the person living next door was being far too careless.

People wouldn't normally take such care of strangers, much less strangers who are habitually drunk. Do they?

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**29th April 2012 – 01100 hours **

If the pain was anything to go by, Kuchiki Rukia was fairly sure she had twisted something.

"Ouch! Damn! Something's twisted alright" She had tripped over one of Rangiku's many, many wedding gifts. The fall had been spectacularly unspectacular for the amount of sound it generated.

The silence of the aftermath was soon followed by an unexpected knock on her door. She managed to reach it by executing the gentlest of hops.

Sweat beaded her brow when she saw Kurosaki Ichigo's handsome albeit optically distorted face through the peephole.

"Shit…" Rukia whispered.

Kurosaki Ichigo was definitely not on her list of callers on a lazy Sunday morning. Sure she had been somewhat taking care of him for the past few weeks, but never in any of her many fantasies had she imagined herself meeting him with a knee swollen to the size of a grapefruit.

"I heard a crash. Are you okay?"

"Err… Erm…" The words were no louder than her previous whisper.

Rukia put her back to the door, as if it would somehow protect her. She wished he would get bored and leave. An unconscious Kurosaki Ichigo she could handle, but a benevolent Ichigo? It was so out of character for him it left her uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hello?"

'_Damn he's still there_.' Rukia thought.

"Are you hurt? If you don't respond I'll have to break down the door-."

Whatever doubt Rukia had as to whether Ichigo would carry out his promise vaporized before he even finished the sentence. Rukia threw open the door, but in her panic, she had forgotten her injury, ultimately resulting in her tumbling forwards, downwards and inwards into a wide-eyed Ichigo.

Talk about cliché.


	2. Chapter 2: Want

**CHAPTER TWO: Want **

**29th April 2012 – 1055 hours **

Kurosaki Ichigo bit into the English muffin he had in one hand as he towelled his bright orange hair with the other. It was still damp from his recent shower.

The muffin was good. He wondered if it was homemade.

*Crash!*

The crash came from the neighbouring apartment. His phantom neighbour must've had something to do with it. It wasn't something he wanted to concern himself with. He never asked for the kindness that had been bestowed upon him. There was not need to feel indebted.

Right?

He took another bite out of the muffin. As he ate, he started to have second thoughts. Maybe there was cause for him to go over and check that everything was in order. By all accounts, Ichigo merely wanted to seek freedom from a triviality. Thus, even though regret was almost imminent, he made his way over and knocked on the door.

"I heard a crash. Are you okay?" Ichigo called out.

As he waited for a response, curiosity simmered beneath his spiritless expression. He tried to stop himself from wondering what kind of person living beyond the door he faced, but as the minutes passed by, that simmer of curiosity threatened to bubble over.

Would it be a man or a woman? Surely a woman. It had to be a woman. He had a hard time imagining a man doing the things his neighbour had. Anyone would.

_'A woman then,'_ he concluded inwardly; a woman who must've had a hell of a hard time dragging his sorry ass into his apartment time and time again.

He conflicted over commending his neighbour's kindness or condemning her absolute lack of common sense and sense of danger.

'_Neighbour, neighbour, neighbour'_.

Ichigo was sick of the word. His mood began to blacken. The annoyance gnawed at him. This person had entered his home on multiple occasions, left him food on multiple occasions, and seen him at his very worst on multiple occasions. Yet, there he was, trying to justify her gender right outside her door!

He had to know her name, preferably before he decided to put his fist through the door. He called out once more.

"Are you hurt? If you don't respond I'll have to break down the door-."

This time, his words were laced with more than just a hint of impatience. He meant it. After all, it was more efficient than creating a fist-sized hole in the door. However, at that point, he was quite unsure whether it would be to the end of helping a person in need, or satisfying his own ill-tempered curiosity.

A curiosity immediately satiated when the door flew open without warning, revealing a woman on unbalanced feet heading face first into what would've been another fall had Ichigo's body not reacted on instinct and caught her. Taken aback as he was during that fraction of a second, his mind was still able to take in the sight before him.

The woman he saw was petite, maybe a little over 5 feet, but she looked absolutely tiny in his arms. Whatever effort he had thought her to exert in carrying his body just quadrupled. However, he sequestered that thought for another time.

Right now, Ichigo just wanted to concentrate on 'her'.

Her eyes were huge. They were almost a tad too big for her small face, no doubt made even larger than usual by shock, and perhaps a little fear. It did nothing to detract from their loveliness though. Her violet eyes were framed by sooty long eyelashes that matched her shoulder length hair.

Hair he had no doubt would be soft to the touch. He supressed the urge to reach up and brush away those silky strands which had fallen out of place when she tumbled for it would've also given him a better, unobstructed view of her alabaster face.

However unkind it may be, Ichigo was grateful for her fall as it allowed for their close proximity. He never would've called it, just how much pleasure he would find in merely being so close to a stranger he had just 'officially' met. He caught the faintest whiff of her shampoo's fruity scent.

She may not have been the most classically beautiful woman Ichigo had ever laid eyes on, but she was certainly the only one whose physical presence alone managed to charm him to this extent. He would've been a fool not notice the attraction he had towards her. Still, whether or not he could act on that attraction was another matter entirely.

Ichigo held her steady. His eyes were fixed on the woman so ardently it took his brain a few seconds to register her effort in distancing herself from him.

His thoughts were going a hundred and fifty miles per hour. Everything about her was setting off a red light in his mind, constructing mental pictures of anticipated events he was struggling to rationalize into subsidence. It was bizarre. He was acting – reacting entirely out of character, and she was the cause of it all.

"Thank you, Mr. Kurosaki Ichigo, but would you mind?"

Rukia couldn't quite read his face, much less guess what was going on in his head as he looked down at her. He wasn't scowling, probably due to surprise. She noted how less intimidating he looked when he didn't scowl. However, they were so close that she thought she might suffocate. Those silent seconds were beginning to painfully drag too.

The whole situation was unbelievably awkward. Rukia wonder if she was about to receive a forcefully reproachful protest for all her meddling. It wasn't until he offered his de rigueur apologies and released her that she remembered what had compelled him to appear at her door in the first place.

He squatted to get a better look at her swollen knee. She leant of the doorframe, scared to put pressure on her left leg. Although she knew of his profession, having him scrutinise her knee with his eyes and fingers was almost too much. She was glad that his attention was directed towards her knee, not her face currently tinged with the red of her embarrassment.

"I think it's twisted. I'll just put an ice bag over it-" Rukia spoke but stopped as he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

As Rukia agonized over what to say, Ichigo stood up. "You know my first name."

Rukia mentally kicked herself for letting that piece of information slip out before. She couldn't come up with any other response except, "Yes."

"What else do you know?" he asked.

The physical pain she was feeling started to seem dull compared to the psychological pressure that one question gave her. What should she say? How would she even phrase it? That she knew he was a member of nobility? That he was an incorrigible drunk when he wasn't managing a globally acclaimed hospital? That for someone who practiced medicine he was incredibly careless with his own well-being? From what she had seen, she doubted he would take kindly to those comments.

"I know enough…" She answered with uncertainty.

"Apparently not," Ichigo quickly replied. "You're the one who keeps breaking into my apartment."

If Rukia hadn't known better, she might've taken that as a pathetic attempt at a joke rather than a mockery of her seemingly relaxed disposition towards entering a man's residence. However, Ichigo's haughty manner in saying it had hit a nerve. Rukia knew that the man in front of her understood his appeal to women very well.

Rukia mentally laughed at her earlier presumption of his benevolence, now unable to fathom how she harboured an attraction in any way, shape or form towards him. The man had better manners when he was lying in a pool of his own sick.

It came across harsher than Ichigo had intended. It wasn't as if he hadn't already expected her to know his name, but the confirmation frustrated him. Especially, considering he still had no clue to hers.

However, the subtle shift in her demeanour didn't go unnoticed by Ichigo. It was the marginally straighter posture, the slightly upturned chin, and the sharp quality to her eyes that wasn't there before. She was not impressed with him. It was justified in light of all their previous encounters, none of which he was conscious for.

But this time, she was really not impressed.

"You think way too highly of yourself, but we both know that's the least of your issues"

Rather than respond, Ichigo smirked. He couldn't help it. The bunny had a bite after all.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"I've been here for quite a while," Ichigo said, but the expression on her face told him she was dissatisfied with that answer. "But, you moved in around the same time I started magically waking up to notes with smileys on them. It's pretty self-explanatory. I'm surprised you had to ask."

Ichigo added the last sentence just to see her reaction to what she'd probably believe to be a slight at her intelligence. On the other hand, it might actually be beneficial for her if her opinion of him suffered even more. That way, she might stay clear of him in the future.

"Well, you'd never know. You might've had another, more considerate personality that finally had it with sleeping on concrete, and dragged himself into his own apartment, unlike someone." The sarcasm was heavily implied.

Ichigo enjoyed her far too much. She managed to cram dissociative identity disorder, amorality and incapacity into a single sentence. But, seeing her wince brought their attention back to her knee. It didn't look any better than it was before. Ichigo had come over with the intention of helping, but now he wasn't sure she'd accept his help even if he offered it. So, he decided not to give her a choice in the matter.

She had barely recovered from a sudden jolt of pain she felt her body leaving the ground. She couldn't believe the turn of events. Kurosaki Ichigo was carrying her!

"Put me down!"

However, Rukia's demands fell on deaf ears as Ichigo made his way into her apartment, stopping when he saw what were obviously wedding gifts throughout the room.

"Wedding gifts for my best friend," Rukia answered Ichigo's unspoken question.

"Emphasis on the giftsss,"

"They're not all from me. Most of our friends back in Rukongai sent me their gifts seeing as Rangiku never stayed at an address long enough for her to bother getting her posting address sorted out," Rukia explained before adding, "And put me down!"

"Gladly," Ichigo said as he walked through the disarray of gifts, into her room, and placed her on her bed. He took her Chappy plush toy by the windowsill and placed it underneath her knee before proceeding to touch said knee, eliciting a rainbow of colourful language from her lips.

"Your cruciate ligaments are most likely overstretched. Do you have any bandages? A knee brace?"

"There are some bandages on the bottom right corner of the kitchen cabinet," Rukia pointed, surprised at how serious it was when it came to treating her knee.

Ichigo came back with a bag of ice and some bandages. He worked fast, efficient, and with a precision that made even such menial procedures look remarkable.

"Apply the ice for 10-15 minutes. It'll help with the swelling. Lie back down and rest, having your knee at a higher level than your heart helps drain the excess fluid back into your system. I'll go buy you a knee brace, wear it for the next 48 hours."

Rukia wasn't sure what injured her pride more; her knee, or the fact that she now had to thank Ichigo.

"Thank you," she managed in the end.

"What need do I have for your gratitude?"

Rukia popped a vein. If she knew the man she had been helping over the last 2 weeks was such an arrogant prick, she would've gladly exercised apathy. At least when it came to anything concerning of him.

"Your name," Ichigo suddenly said, snapping Rukia out of her internal monologue. "I want your name".


	3. Chapter 3: What If

**There are a few time skips so refer to the dates in case you're confused. **

**AU-Ichigo = [Ichigo + Zangetsu (Zanpakutō spirit) + Zangetsu (Quincy Powers)], hence the disjointed personality.**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: What if **

**13th June 2012 – 0600 hours **

It never occurred to Kurosaki Ichigo that there would come a day when he would realize his own under appreciation for the expression 'familiarity breeds contempt'. Barring his relations and childhood friend – Renji – not in any way did he'd ever allowed his relationships with people to advance beyond the customary superficialities his position necessitated.

Likewise, although he had always spurned the Shihoin Clans' exorbitant standards of decorum, for once he wished he hadn't neglected to maintain some form of dissemblance.

He uttered his displeasure with a curse as he brought an arm over his eyes, hoping to shield them from the unrelenting rays of the Japanese sunrise. It didn't do much and Ichigo made a note of getting darker curtains for his office as it seemed like his meagre sleeping arrangements would have to continue for a while.

He hadn't been home in the last 48 hours and he was starting to feel the effects of sleeping on a couch. But it wasn't the minor bodily afflictions which were giving him a headache. It was that damnable neighbour of his, Kuchiki Rukia.

The mere thought of her evoked the memory of their latest encounter which only succeeded in adding to his already burdened psyche. He had started to purposely leave for work earlier than need be, just to prevent the situation they were in from getting worse. A situation which was, well…

"Abso-fucking-lutely indecipherable." Ichigo sighed.

One minute their conversations were awkward, strained, and uncomfortable, the next they were in yet another contention. They were going nowhere.

That brought Ichigo's train of thought to an abrupt halt.

Again. Again! Yet again he caught himself thinking that he and Rukia had somewhere to 'go'.

It was wildly unreasonable, illogical and unarguably laughable. Incompatibility screamed when it came to the two of them. And yet, the clincher – the coup de grâce of it all lied in the fact that none of the animosity between them would have mattered had he not have the urge to push her up against a wall and completely overwhelm her every time he saw her face, and to kiss her until she became as obsessed with him as he was with her.

Why did it have to be her? Why, out all the people in existence did Kuchiki Rukia have to be the one to discover how pathetic of a man he was? If she hadn't been his neighbour, if he'd had control of his introduction into her life, if he had wooed her with a practised guise. Would he have already had her? Or more importantly, would he have been able to stop himself from keeping her?

Be that as it may, their encounter 2 mornings ago lacked the usual bickering. They didn't even greet each other. Ichigo tensed as he recalled the look Rukia wore. She could tell he had been looking for something at the bottom of several bottles the night before.

However, instead of the usual chiding about his drinking as she'd been persisting for weeks, she just spared him one glance before walking away. As far as he could tell, there was nothing judgemental; nothing critical in how she looked at him. It was more akin to sadness; something discernible from pity.

It made him vow to never leave that late again. The anger morphed from frustration was enough to make him forgo his own bed if only just to temporarily preclude any chance of seeing her. Because that look was enough for Ichigo to conclude that unlike himself, Rukia's feelings about him were clear cut – disappointment.

* * *

**18th June 2012 – 1500 hours **

Kuchiki Rukia earned herself a few curious looks when she pressed the 'enter' tab on her keyboard with much more force than was necessary. She was worried. So much so that it was distracting her from work. Because that was what Kurosaki Ichigo was to her at the moment; a distraction to be constantly worried about.

It had been more than a week since she last saw him. The frequency of their meetings had also progressively decreased. Undoubtedly something he had put effort into. Guilt gnawed at her and the memories all the times she had berated him about his issues with liquor only served to intensify the unpleasant feeling. It was all too exhausting; the uncertainty itself was exhausting.

If ever there was any scientific design to the stages of human interaction, what would the two of them be? Mutually interested strangers that became acquainted and then meandered off into an unceasing loop of antagonism and objectionable concern? At what point in time even, did badinage and persiflage change into quarrel and dispute? Rukia had no answer.

People don't become physically dependent on anything for no apparent reason, especially someone with a background like Ichigo's. Something wasn't right. The fact that he was even living in Lightberry Heights warranted questioning.

She didn't expect him to pour his heart out to her, nor did she ever deluded herself into thinking she could help her neighbour off the path of self-infliction. She wasn't that naive. No. She had long accepted that the world was neither fair nor just in many – too many ways. Thus, seeing someone who had been blessed with everything from intelligence, to looks, to a family with clout leading a divergent life lacking any coherent sequence or connection did more than make her feel sad. It vexed her.

In spite of her earlier declaration of apathy toward him and his overbearing ego, it had been difficult to dismiss the things she had seen him doing just by pure happenstance.

The struggling art student living on the ground floor who thought the landlord was a saint for letting him stay even though he was months behind rent never knew that Ichigo had already paid his rent for the following year. The single mother running the local produce store also never questioned his excessive purchases, whereas Rukia knew first-hand that his apartment was nearly always devoid of food.

Granted he did look the epitome of ennui in his execution. With his assets, what might have seemed almost altruistic to most people must have been insignificant in his eyes.

It had to have meant something though. Rukia genuinely wanted to believe it did. Therefore, no matter how arduous he must have found her and regardless of how sanctimonious it had made her look or how guilty it had made her feel; she could've never found it in herself to simply not care.

However, the weeks passed by and their constant disagreements started to enfeeble even her formerly ironclad resolve. Such concentration of self-doubt and helplessness were not feelings Kuchiki Rukia was accustomed to, and the fact that they sourced from Kurosaki Ichigo's continual rejection seemed to only make it worse.

It weighed her down. So she eventually – although it was still a worry – yielded sufferance.

* * *

**19th June 2012 – 1000 hours **

It was fanatical – his desire to see her – just as much as it was foolish; for he knew that they would have done nothing but bicker the minute they realized they were in the other's company. At least, that was what would have happened before. Now, Ichigo wasn't so sure, seeing as the atmosphere the last time they came upon each other was civil but cold.

Would that be it? Indifference running its course until they were nothing but 2 people who formerly knew each other? The thought made him contract his brows sullenly, unconcerned of how cagey it made the staff around him feel. One poor nurse looked like she was ready to bolt. It was after all, her report the director was burning a hole into as the surrounding temperature dropped by _x _degrees Celsius.

Still, if there was ever one thing everybody could agree on Mastumoto Rangiku, it would be her natural charm and ability to relieve whatever tension was in the air. A talent she had exercised to help the hapless nurse in question. In wasn't her fault in any case; she was only an inexperienced newcomer to the hospital with no knowledge of how to interpret Dr. Kurosaki's disposition.

In a matter of minutes, Rangiku managed to brighten the ambience. Although, the undertaking did prove to be less of a challenge than one would have thought considering how eager everyone was to lift the metaphorical overcast.

"Matsumoto, a moment please", Rangiku mood soured at the curt sound of Dr. Kurosaki's summon.

Rangiku wondered if there would ever come a day when she'll get used to how daunting it was to look him in the eyes. Nevertheless, look him in the eyes she would. There wasn't going to be any faltering. Not even if it was the orange devil himself.

"Yes?" she mustered when they were in semi-privacy.

"About your wedding invitation, I'm afraid I'd have to decline."

Ichigo saw the change in her body language before he had even finished the sentence. He wasn't surprised. It was just one of the many wedding invitations he had received from the hospital staff. All of which were due to convention. It was a sign of respect to allow an employer the courtesy to decline. There would sooner be a cold day in hell before anyone working in this hospital actually wanted him at their wedding.

"Don't be, think nothing of it! Of course you're much too busy to attend our little ceremony."

Rangiku couldn't help but come across happier than it was appropriate. However, even if Dr. Kurosaki was offended, he showed no sign of it.

"Thank you. I'm sure the ceremony will be a pleasant one," he replied in nonchalance, ready to cut the aimless conversation short, and leave the bride-to-be to bathe in her own exuberance.

"Yes, I hope so", Rangiku was on a roll "Couldn't have managed without Rukia though that's for sure".

As skilled as he was in the art of pretence, it took more than a little effort to masquerade his body's natural reaction to that name.

"Rukia?"

"Yeah, my bridesmaid Kuchiki Rukia. I know, it's not a name you'd hear every day right? She's a journalist at TNN and…" she kept on raving, not realizing that Ichigo had long since tuned her out in favour of searching his memory for anything relevant.

'The wedding gifts in her apartment sent from Rukongai because her best friend...', "_Rangiku never stayed at an address long enough for her to bother getting her posting address sorted out"_.

So, the two women were best friends. Yet, Rukia never told her anything about him. He was torn between being impressed with Rukia's discretion, and feeling annoyed at how inconsequential he seemed to be to her.

* * *

**23rd June 2012 – 2300 hours**

As stressful as it had been at times to plan the ambitious event, their zeal did pay off. The wedding was nothing short of a success. Everything went smoothly and the bride and groom looked every bit the happy couple they were throughout the entire day. And now that they were well into the wedding reception, the dance floor only served to enhance their elation.

"Kuchiki Rukia"

Rukia turned to the direction of her beckoner and found herself looking a man so tall, she would've been straining her neck to meet his eyes if not for the 5 inch heels she donned. It took her a second to recognize the man before her but when she did; there was nothing that could've stopped her from breaking out her broadest possible smile.

"Grimmjow?! You flew in from Portugal? ", it was more of a statement than a question, "I didn't think you were going to show. You know, with your history with Rangiku and all" Rukia voiced her surprise.

Grimmjow and Rangiku dated for 2 weeks in their 3rd year of middle school. The transience was legendary back in the day. It was a record, even for Rangiku. With his devil-may-care attitude and her effervescent personality, their hurricane of a relationship was doomed from the very start. But, it was absolutely the most entertaining 2 weeks they and their close-knit group of friends experienced in their teenage years.

Then again, regardless of their amiable breakup, Grimmjow was still her ex-boyfriend and it was common knowledge that their rapport had earned him Gin's rancour. It was why Rangiku herself probably never expected him to attend despite her eagerness in sending out an invite.

"Truthfully, I didn't think I was going to arrive it in time to even make an appearance. They weren't kidding about the delay." Grimmjow replied.

The memory of his departure for his home country came to Rukia's mind. He had left straight after middle school, making this the first time in almost a decade that she had seen him in the flesh.

He had always been unfairly handsome, but now, on top of that, he sported the sinewy build of an athlete in his prime. It was easily apparent even through the fabric of his suit.

"Are you staying long at all?" The shorter of the two asked.

"No, I only meant to be here for the wedding believe it or not. I fly back first thing tomorrow morning," he answered ruefully, no doubt dreading the impending flight. Rukia gave him a sympathetic smile but then he added with a grin, "But I have to get back to training for the Olympics."

Now that was news. "For real?! Judo?" asked Rukia.

Rukia's excitement for one of her closest friends was clearly expressed in the tone of her voice. His affirmation was followed by sincere congratulations and promises to catch up as soon as he was available.

* * *

Rage pervaded Kurosaki Ichigo's being. A quiet rage with such amplitude it radiated off him in waves of excesses. He never intended to attend. He knew where Rukia lived. It would have been imbecilic to even consider putting himself in the ceremonious brouhaha just to see her.

So why was he standing there looking like the idiot he was, watching her flirt with some guy in a part of the garden that was all but deserted? How in god's name did he even get there in the first place? And what in the world was he doing walking toward them?

Rukia sensed him before she even caught sight of him. He looked choleric and smelt inebriated although it was positively mild compared to what she had seen before.

"Ichigo? But you decli-"was all she got out before Grimmjow pulled her behind him. She had a sinking feeling that the testosterone in the atmosphere was about to thicken as each man started to size up the other.

"You know this guy?" The question aimed at Rukia was answered by Ichigo, "She does."

Their body language grew more aggressive by the second. They were in a predicament. Ichigo was definitely not in total control of his faculties and no matter how strong he may take himself to be, Grimmjow was a trained fighter and in better shape than he was.

Knowing that something had to be done before the threat materialized, she rushed amidst the opposing men, urging Grimmjow backward with a shift of her shoulder as she took in Ichigo's stunned visage.

However, Ichigo's surprise quickly evolved into scorn and he turned his attention to Grimmjow, scoffing, "Hoping to do the bridesmaid are you?"

Grimmjow wasn't going to take the insult lying down but Rukia managed to beat him to the punch.

The sound of skin striking skin reverberated throughout, made deceptively louder by the silence in the air.

Following a brief pause, Ichigo let out a stream of mock laugher as he backed away from Rukia and her beau. He'd had enough of the two lovebirds.

"Ichigo!"

Rukia called after Ichigo but by that time he had already put enough distance between them to be out of earshot. She could still feel the sting in her palm. It was awful. Everything had made a turn for the worse.

"What was that Rukia?" Grimmjow was pressing for answers but by then Rukia was already running after Ichigo

"I'll explain later." He never had the chance to retort.

* * *

**23rd June 2012 – 2345 hours **

It took a while of searching before Rukia finally saw Ichigo's silhouette walking down one of the empty, well lit streets of suburban Tokyo. She ran after him, her bare feet touching the pavement one after the other.

"Ichigo!", she yelled.

He kept on walking.

"Ichigo!"

He didn't look back.

"Ichigo! Rukia was running out of breath.

"Ichigo…" She took deep breath after deep breath, now trailing mere paces behind him but he still didn't respond.

"Oh for fuck sake stop sulking!" Rukia stopped and called out with all the conviction she could muster.

It proved to be effective for Ichigo was now facing in her direction, "I'm not sulking".

"You are sulking", she declared.

"I'm livid", he retaliated.

"Yet you have no reason to be".

"Be mindful of what comes out of that smart mouth of yours Rukia".

"You're blinded by your own expectation!"

"Expectati?!- What fucking expectation? There is no fucking expectation! What - … Fuck!" Ichigo turned his back to Rukia, unable to take the sight of her.

"The expectation that everything pisses you off. You're so monomaniacal about it that you start perceiving things that are absent and then jump to conclusions; fictitious conclusions which you give credence to because it – as you would expect – pisses you off!"

"Shut up! There's not a thing that could give that any credibility".

"Look at me!"

He turned in exasperation and looked her dead straight in the eyes when she said the same words for the second time.

"What's the definition of anger?" Rukia asked.

"What?! That's completely non sequitur. Where is any of this even going?"

"Humour me," she was determined.

Ichigo exhaled a breath of frustration. "It's a sentiment resultant of an apparent loss, accredited to a wilful agent, and judged as unjust."

"And have you lost anything just now? What does it even matter to you? No one took anything from you, trespassed against you. No one committed anything that was unfair to you. By all accounts, there was no cause for you act like that back there. Nothing at all save for your own unfounded perceptions."

Ichigo couldn't believe what he was hearing, "I wonder who's really the blind one here".

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"No! That's the point. It isn't supposed to mean anything. None of it should be of any consequence to me. You! – shouldn't matter to me."

One never would've thought that Ichigo was intoxicated at that moment due to how coherent he was. He took a step forward, closing the space between them, consumed by a degree of concentration so strong that it manifested in physical forms. His teeth were clenched, his jaw was set, his posture was rigid and his neck was so taut it protruded his collarbone. There wasn't going to be any reiteration. That then and there would be the one time he spelt it out for her.

Rukia was rendered speechless from just the hushed ferocity of his delivery; confusion markedly visible on her face. Unsure of what was happening; she could do nothing but listen as Ichigo continued.

"You invited yourself into my life and subsequently showered me with concern that I never consented to. You badger and you nag even when it's none of your business. You preoccupy my thoughts and it drives me up the wall. You matter, even when I damn well don't want you to be. And I want you, so much it's maddening to have to resist you."

None of them knew how long they just stood there, looking at each other. It was as if time itself had stopped.

"Just now", Ichigo spoke calmly for the first time that night, "That guy you were with was going to take you. I was going to lose you".

When Rukia didn't respond, he continued, "Say something – please".

"Don't put this all on me", Rukia began, "Don't you dare put all of this on me. I'm not telepathic! How was I supposed to figure out what was going on in your head? You're two extremities on opposite sides of a spectrum. You're either aloof and detached, or you're angry, and the later only gets worse when you're drunk. You don't even tell me anything. How am I supposed to understand you?"

"There are some things I just can't talk about Rukia,"

Ichigo didn't want to remember it. He hoped to god he wasn't going to remember it. Not now. Not right now.

"Ichigo."

"Stop," he recalled a body on the ground. Sprawled and broken. Dead.

"Ichigo."

"Enough,", he could see the pallid face looking up at him.

"Ichigo what happened?"

"Enough!"

No sooner did Rukia ask the question that his fist came flying past her, crashing into the neon sign behind her, so close she felt it graze her ear.

In that moment, Rukia felt nothing but the pounding of her heart, completely petrified. Would he have actually struck her?

Ichigo raised his eyes from the ground and stared at the woman in front of him. The pain in his hand nothing compared to the pain of seeing how scared he had made the woman he loved feel. She was so small. He took 3 steps away from her.

She was so, so small. What if he'd actually struck her?

What if he simply lost it one day and struck her?


	4. Chapter 4: Paranoia

**Ichigo's godliness in Bleach is interpreted as AU-savantism.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: Paranoia **

**_(FLASHBACK) 2_3**_**rd June 2012 – 2357 hours **_

_In that moment, Rukia was too shocked to either blink or breathe, but neither dry eyes nor screaming lungs could pry her focus away from the tense, unreadable figure backing away from her. _

_Run away! _

_Rukia wanted to bolt, escape, and scream for good measure. After all, that was what any sane woman in her position would do right? But she could not anticipate what action a man as mercurial as Ichigo would take. _

_Would he give chase and raise his hand against her after he had hunted her down? If he did, she knew his long strides would never let her go far, if at all. Would it be safer to stay still? To provide the least amount of provocation until he calmed down? _

_Both options entailed unpredictable outcomes. However, even through her fear, Rukia reprimanded herself for having cornered Ichigo and herself into their current deadlock. In a sense, she had played the part of the aggressor and now they were in a situation where neither knew how to progress from. _

_A shift in his eyes and a sudden jolt of surprise washed through her as an unseen clock tower signalled the arrival of midnight. By the time Rukia's heart settled back down into her chest, she could just see Ichigo's form disappearing beyond a corner. _

_Every single muscle in Rukia's body seemed to slacken, and the task of supporting her own meagre bodyweight felt herculean. Black clouds spotted her vision as she felt her knees buckle and Rukia readied herself for the pain of hitting the glass-littered pavement._

* * *

**27th June 2012 – 1130 hours **

It had been a scene right out of a bloody fairy tale. That blue-haired pest had come running after Rukia with her heels in hand, right when the clock struck twelve. It was embarrassing how recalling the scene could so easily diminish him into nothing more than a jealous moron.

Still, he would have opted for a lifetime's worth of embarrassment if he could only undo his abysmal behaviour towards Rukia. He had been a wretched fool, and the shame of his conduct soaked into the very marrow of his bones. How could he have done so wrong by her?

Hypothetical or not, he doubt he'd ever survive the guilt of harming Rukia. But, even with the proverbial so close yet so far distance between them, Rukia was more vulnerable than ever before.

Not even half a day had passed since he last laid eyes on the violet-eyed beauty did he receive a visit from members of the Shihoin Clan carrying an assortment of photographs and video footage of the two of them from the night before. Ichigo had broken out in cold sweat watching just how close his fist came to connecting with Rukia.

It had been carelessness of cosmic proportions. He should have known better. The Shihoin Clan held an almost oppressive influence over the media and while Ichigo knew they would never consider leaking the incident only to bring unwanted attention, Rukia was different. She was fair game, and he had just made her a legitimate target for the clan. An unsatisfactory response from him would expose Rukia to the very same tyranny it took him 2 decades to overcome.

Rukia had probably washed her hands off him by now but that did not lessen the need for her protection. Nonetheless, there were very few ways he could go about it, especially since Rukia worked in media. It was unlikely that she would voluntarily give up her job and buying TNN was impossible since it was government property. That left blackmail and bribery, but the Shihoin clan eclipsed him in both capacities.

"Keep putting that scowl on your face and I guarantee you'll look ancient before you even hit the big 5-0." The slightly annoying voice of Renji intruded his thoughts before he could even look up to see heavily tattooed man enter his office.

"Sorry sir, he just walked right past me." The apology contradicted with the look she aimed at Renji.

"It's all right Nanao. Thank you." Nano left but not before giving Renji another disapproving look, to which he responded by giving her a cocky grin.

"What did you find out?" Ichigo wasted no time on trivialities.

"Nobody from the clan has had any contact with the little lady and so far she has no idea she's being watched," Renji answered.

Ichigo brows furrowed deeper, it unsettled him to know that Rukia was being watched.

"You're sure that's all they're doing?".

"Of course I am, who do you think you're talking to?"

Renji almost managed to look insulted, and would have succeeded if not for the overly self-assured smug he wore like a second skin. It was not unfounded, however, as Renji was an ex-military man, a reconnaissance specialist with skills once sought after worldwide, who had since retired was now running a dojo in Tokyo.

"But, I'm surprised how cool you are with this," said Renji.

The look he received could have sent a lesser man fleeing but Renji had practically watched the brat in front of him grow up. They have had years to immunize against the others' less desirable traits.

"I mean, the little lady did get taken to a hotel by a guy who's technically your rival, an Olympic athlete, and he probably doesn't have his guts hated by the woman you're so desperately trying to monopolize. Not to mention our entire clan is using her to get to you," he counted with his fingers.

"He brought her to the hotel where her friend's wedding was held. And he left 20 minutes later," Ichigo parried.

"You could do a lot in 20 minutes."

Ichigo's priorities were something Renji found exceptionally fun to toy with even if some of his remarks did earn him particularly grim looks. However, despite the situation Ichigo had landed himself in, Renji couldn't help but feel happy that he'd finally let someone into his life. True, their relationship could've been less of a mess but even geniuses had their shortcomings. Sometimes, Renji wondered why bigger brain were said to be evolutionarily advantageous, since it'd only served to drive Ichigo further into damnation.

Kurosaki Ichigo's birth was never something the Shihoin clan celebrated. He was a product of a coupling that didn't garner the clan's blessing. The clan, so buried in archaic tradition shunned the child even more when bright orange hair started to emerge from his tiny crown. It was too visible, too loud, the colour of frivolity; it was what the clan thought of Kurosaki Isshin and Kurosaki Masaki's marriage, a frivolous affair. For a while it seemed like nothing would ever change the clan's judgement, not even with Yoruichi Shihoin and Kisuke Urahara vouching for the child.

It wasn't until Ichigo defeated Kisuke Urahara, an intellectual by anyone's standard, at shogi, 15 consecutive times, at the age of 3 years old, after only witnessing the game once prior, did the clan realize that the mongrel child might be of use after all.

After Ichigo's possession of prodigiously high cognitive functions was made official and he was suddenly thrust into the role of scion and heir to the Shihoin Clan. Every bit of his personality was forged to custom fit the clan's desires. His hair was dyed black every few months and even then the clan was so paranoid of the colour they all but limited his world to the confines of their own lands where he was polished to the paragon of Shihoin perfection – strong, unfeeling, and impartial – a noble ruler who never showed weakness or mingled with those the clan deemed unworthy. Every aspect of his life was controlled. At school, he had subordinates. He was singled out, and conditioned as someone to be idolized rather than befriended.

His parents and their supporters had no leverage over the matter. The clan was a beacon of superlatives - a collection of the richest, most powerful, most influential families in the country. Hence, an honest child grew up under the oppressive thumb of the Shihoin clan, made to believe if he were sedulous in pursuing excellence and flawlessness, he would be allowed to return to his parents, and a younger sister he'd never met one day.

But even when he'd met every single expectation which was required of him and then some, the clan never truly accepted him as one of their own. Not when half of the blood coursing through his vein descended from non-noble blood.

"But in all seriousness, I'm still waiting to hear how you're gonna evade all this."

"I can't outmanoeuvre them. Not with Rukia involved."

Ichigo held in his exasperation but Renji wasn't fooled. He knew better than anyone that Kurosaki Ichigo was truly perturbed.

"So, you're gonna avoid her to avert the issue. You sure you can handle it? You? The idiot who, with just a handful of sober brain cells, managed to get himself across Tokyo to attend a wedding just to catch a glimpse of her all dressed up?".

"I wasn't that drunk".

"Coming from a drunkard, that sentence doesn't signify a thing." Renji's intent wasn't lost on Ichigo but he chose to keep his silence as the red head continued.

"Look, I don't know 'exactly' what happened and I'm not gonna pry, but you're going up against an adversary that has you completely, hopelessly outgunned. Forget being dry, you'll need to be ascetic! If not, even you won't win".

* * *

**31st July 2012 – 1830 hours **

Rukia's body was directed towards the television but her mind was too preoccupied gathering wool to pay any attention to the news. Rangiku noted how her best friend sat sedately on the sofa, hardly reacting to the news of Grimmjow's 2012 Olympic win in the men's judo -81kg gold medal by defeating Germany's Luders Friegen in the final of the event.

In fact, ever since that night where Grimmjow dropped a somewhat weak and withdrawn Rukia in Rangiku's lap, she had been veritably out of sorts. Secretly, Rangiku loved the feeling of reverential respect mixed with pride which fluttered at Gin's zealousness in defending what he'd believed to be a slight at his bride's best friend's honour. However, publically, she could not have spoken fast enough to pacify her groom's keenness to tackle her ex, a pursuit not at all bolstered by the cavalier attitude Grimmjow reserved especially for those he found irksome.

A rushed interrogation of Grimmjow merely produced further confusion. Unless orange was suddenly a commonplace pigmentation of hair follicles, it was safe to assume that Kuchiki Rukia was somehow embroiled in a predicament of mixed up mystification with Kurosaki Ichigo.

Subsequent questionings of Rukia herself only rendered elusive, loose, and vague responses, and Rangiku mocked herself for trying to grill a journalist. She thought her husband, a reputable lawyer, would have better luck. However, he only managed to extract an excellent, but nonetheless extraneous, exemplification of equivocation in the end.

Recalling the memory from over a month ago made Rangiku's temperature rise a little. It did not sit well with her to be left out of the loop.

"Would you please wipe that distant look off of your face? Introversion doesn't suit you."

"Pensive."

"Excuse me?"

"Pensive. Not distant."

"What friggin difference does it make? Both words imply that you're a million miles away don't they? You're so out of character it's scaring me."

"My being engaged in deep thought is out of character?" Rukia cocked her eyebrow.

"Don't give me that trite indication of scepticism. You know that's not what I meant." Rangiku's patience was wearing thin.

"O RLY?" Rukia's scathing remark slipped out before she could filter it.

"Yes really! The Rukia I know is a modest – albeit irreparably sarcastic – smartass who is otherwise a cool, graceful lady of the Kuchiki household. She's kind, supportive, and would never demonstrate such dismal indifference to an old friend's amazing achievement. And most of all, she's not a caustic bitch so inclined towards concealing her feelings and intentions that she won't disclose even an iota of information to her best friend who's seriously, seriously worried about her!" Rangiku was faintly puffing at the end of her tirade.

The forgotten television set continued to drone on about the National Diet's plan to reform the immigration policy of Japan while an awkward silence settled over the two friends.

"You're right… I'm sorry… Been difficult, haven't I?"

She had been unproductively doing mental replays of her last conversation with Ichigo for 5 weeks. Each and every time, the memory of Ichigo's incoming fist would shock her into the tangible world again. Rukia stewed for days afterward, hesitant of whether she should go near her eccentric neighbour again.

However, it was a senseless dilemma because as far as she could tell, he hadn't returned to Lightberry Heights since late June. Ever since, the sole contact she'd had from the man who had unexpectedly claimed that he 'wanted' her was receiving the most enormous bouquet she had ever seen. There was no card, but the symbolism of the blooms – a mixture of asters, Star of Bethlehems, and yellow roses – was not lost on her.

Rukia was frustrated. Her irresolute opinions of Ichigo constantly plagued her thoughts these days. There was more to him than he cared to divulge. She wanted to respect his privacy and give him the benefit of the doubt. Yet, he had said what he did, done what he did. Could she really consider the drunken declarations of someone who had come so close to striking her?

_'Tsk… Pointless question,_' Rukia thought as she bit her lip.

Save for the flowers, Ichigo had completely disregarded her existence, leaving her stuck in a seemingly indefinite period of uncertainty to await resolution. Her limbo.

"Yes, yes… And that was a horrible impression of Snowy. Absolutely appalling, you had none of its cuteness, none at all!" Rangiku laughed and Rukia blinked several times.

The abrupt incongruity of Rangiku's insult with her thoughts melted away her tension, and she too started to laugh at Rangiku's solemn disproval of her imitation of the internet's beloved _Bubo scandiacus. _Rukia realised how lucky she was to have Rangiku for a friend. She was jaunty and jovial. It made a sharp contrast to Rukia's more serious temperament.

A longing for the blitheness she had often enjoyed before the appearance of Kurosaki Ichigo in her life arose in Rukia. However, if he was avoiding her, she was not going to crawl to him. Not after he vehemently complained about her showing too much curiosity about his affairs. It was time she moved on.

Rukia thought of how Ichigo's face was habitually set in that perpetual scowl. Her fingers instinctively itched to caress his brows.

Rukia languished.

It was definitely time she moved on.

The familiar ringing of her phone caught her attention, as did the name on the screen;

[Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez]

* * *

**12th August 2012 – 1600 hours **

Following their talk on the 27th of June, Ichigo started lodging at Renji's house. It was situated behind his dojo and, while quaint, was far more accommodating than Ichigo's office. It was also nowhere near where Rukia was, both a blessing and a curse.

Without him around, she was safer from both the clan – and himself. The clan had placed her under surveillance and at times had come close to accosting her. It was disgusting. The Shihoin Clan vaunted their superiority at every opportunity. Yet, they would never reject dirty tactics as long as they couldn't be traced back to the clan.

Ichigo had cogitated to the brink of exhaustion about how to protect Rukia, but nothing he produced was beyond the might of the Shihoin clan to transcend. Ultimately, the only thing Ichigo could offer the clan that would prompt the dismissal of the operatives was himself – at least for the moment. However, regardless of what he'd imagined resigning to the will of the clan to be, it was certainly not this.

Of all things, they wanted him to read.

A lot.

He had counted. His maternal uncle – Yhwach – had left him 15 sizeable crates of information to digest. Countless articles, books, documents, journals, manuscripts et cetera, both hard and soft copy, apparently warranted his scrutiny in the eyes of the clan. It was utterly ridiculous. The clan simply wanted to waste his time. To make sure that he was kept out of trouble and away from anything and or anyone the clan considered beneath them.

The materials themselves were absurd. Dilution Refrigeration? Magnetohydrodynamics? Science for Democratic Action Vol. 5 No. 1? Teragon's Summary of Cryogen Properties? The Tokamak? Did they expect him to build a nuclear-powered time-travelling machine?

One box was labelled [#09 S. M.], his mother's initials before marrying his father he presumed. Ichigo had perused the contents of the box over the period of several days. At any rate, he still did not understand the point of the exercise.

The blueprints, codes, and equations were endless, as were the pages upon pages of formulae and calculations. Even though Ichigo had exerted an immense amount of effort in order to assimilate everything, he still could not shake the feeling that he was simply doing a fool's errand.

Yet, he wanted to be a fool for Rukia.

Only Rukia.

* * *

**24th August 2012 – 1730 hours **

Renji surreptitiously hid his face in one of the myriad of magazines on display in the bookstore. He had to admit, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez possessed some supernatural spidey-sense on him. Renji had lost count of the number of outings Grimmjow and Rukia have been on together. He refused to refer to their outings as dates. Partly out of respect to his childhood friend's feelings, and partly because Grimmjow and Rukia weren't exactly couple-like. However, their relationship was certainly intimate enough for them to be easily mistaken for an item.

Renji had been guarding Rukia from afar, just one of the tasks Ichigo had assigned him. He barely had enough left in him to manage his dojo, but he had friends and comrades-in-arms Ikkaku Madarame, Izuru Kira, Shūhei Hisagi, and Yumichika Ayasegawa to help him. But, even then, they were sometimes in danger of spreading themselves too thin.

It was a nothing short of a miracle how Ichigo managed to handle his commitments to the hospital and the clan all at once. Renji hoped Ichigo was rational enough to not expend himself beyond what common sense prescribed. Despite his superhuman talent and flair, Kurosaki Ichigo was not infallible.

His phone rang. It was Ichigo.

"What's up?" Renji asked, completely aware that he wasn't going to receive a response.

"Hueco Mundo. You've been there right?"

"Yes I have," Renji looked around for some place that could offer some form of privacy in the large bookstore. "The clan sent me there in 07' to gather intell on a warlord named Aizen Sousuke. Why the sudden interest in Hueco Mundo?" If hell on earth were true, it would be Hueco Mundo.

"Yhwach. We were having a discussion about the DIET's plan on revising the immigration policies when he said this name out of nowhere."

"And you suspect something?"

"Yhwach's tricky. He's one of the few higher members of the clan whom I've never been able to read. But, it's possible he's intentionally leading me somewhere."

"And you're gonna bite?"

"Yes, I am. Hand me a report of everything you have on Hueco Mundo within 72 hours."

"Ay, ay, sir…" Renji didn't bother to hide his lack of enthusiasm, but Ichigo knew that he would perform regardless.

There was a slight pause before Ichigo asked, "Is Rukia safe?"

Renji wavered, unsure of whether it was better or not to tell Ichigo that Grimmjow and Rukia were together again. He looked at the happy pair and felt sympathy for the person on the other end of the line. Rukia had absolutely no idea how much Ichigo was enduring all for the sake of protecting her.

"Yeah she's perfectly fine. Would you like me to describe what she's wearing?" Renji teased. In the end he decided against disclosing that little detail.

"That's…" There was a pause again.

Renji was stunned, was Ichigo actually considering it?

"…unnecessary"

If 29 year-old men blushed, Renji would wager good money on Ichigo being as red as the fruit of his namesake right now.

* * *

**24th August 2012 – 1740 hours **

Grimmjow turned for the nth time in 3 hours.

"Still getting the feeling we're being followed?" Rukia asked.

"Yeah," Grimmjow replied.

"You're being paranoid. Here read this." Rukia shoved a magazine in front of Grimmjow, effectively distracting him from whoever it was following them.

"It's not paranoia if it's true," Grimmjow reminded her. "Immigration policy review? What's so interesting about this?"

"Well, if it passes, you're in danger of losing your naturalised status."


	5. Chapter 5: Barely Sane

**So, this is the halfway point of my awkwardly written fic. Should you continue to read, your tolerance is admirable :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: Barely Sane **

**29th September 2012 – 2222 hours **

In all of her 26 years, complete and utter terror had only ever visited Kuchiki Rukia twice. Tonight, as she looked up at the man who was staring down at her. She knew the third visit had just occurred, and she only had herself to blame for it.

Kuchiki Rukia had always known Kurosaki Ichigo was dangerous.

But earlier that night, she had done it anyway. She had made the conscious decision to foolishly, and without logic or reason, enter uninvited into her neighbour's home again.

She had been freezing, her clothes wet and flapping wildly in the storm. But in front of the door that had been left ajar from the force of the howling wind, the last thing that had been on her mind was securing shelter in her own apartment.

Had Ichigo returned? Why? Why was he back after all this time?

3 months... He had stayed away from Lightberry Heights for 3 cursed months. Yet now there was a possibility that she would find him just beyond that open door.

Her first emotion had been that of diffident irritation. She was downright drenched and looked an absolute mess. Couldn't he have picked a brighter and sunnier day to reappear on? Why had he elected today of all days to reappear? Today – when the country was about to be sieged by a typhoon christened after a bloody-fucking-freshwater-sucking carp!

Her second emotion had been that of jarring realisation. Just exactly how much had she been missing him? Had she been subconsciously waiting, quietly expecting him all this while? How long ago was it? When she had started to spend one second of each morning before work and every evening after it standing in front of his apartment? Looking at the nameplate which hung on the door, and wishing that he would somehow emerge from it.

Doubt had been the third to arrive. It had been late, but the feeling of uncertainty, that lack of conviction, did, if only ever so slightly, infiltrate her. However, prudence had altogether failed to show up and drop anchor, as was always the case with anything concerning Kurosaki Ichigo.

Caution had been thrown into that constant, ceaseless gale of a wind.

* * *

_**(FLASHBACK) 29th September 2012 – 2000 hours **_

"_You have been fairly obedient as of late," Yhwach said as he meticulously carved into his steak with short, efficient strokes. _

_Two grown men having an expensive dinner together – it was hardly a situation Yhwach had imagined himself to enjoy. Yet, there was something sadistically gratifying about watching his usually recalcitrant nephew so unsettled in his reluctant, ill-fitting compliance. _

"_I'm glad you approve." _

_Yhwach smirked at the young man's reply. To him, even Ichigo's poorly-disguised sardonicism could be delightful at times. _

_His nephew was a gentleman of limitless potential vitiated by the proclivities of feeble men. It was an inadequacy imputable to his more malapropos progenitor. Masaki could have done better. No. It had been his sister's duty to be espoused to someone more superior than Kurosaki Isshin. Yet, she had spurned her obligation to the clan, abandoned herself to a careless union, and had begotten a defective, orange-haired spawn because of it. The betrayal had festered in his heart like a putrescent wound for years. _

_Perhaps it was fate's own brand of irony that would later arrange for her son to display an intellectual prowess far surpassing that of her own, to bestow him limitless comprehensive skill along with an eidetic memory. At which point, there was little anyone could do to thwart the clan's efforts in claiming the young savant as theirs, even if it was only by half. _

_Yhwach had witness the clan labour and toil in order to nullify Ichigo's blemished half; in order to mould him into the desired specifications. Twenty years it was. Twenty years where rigid principles of behaviour were forcibly and repeatedly inculcated into the young boy. Yhwach had little dissent with the concept, but any blithering idiot could've taken one look at the end product and argued whether or not the clan's methods of execution were effective. _

_Perhaps the clan would have succeeded in perfectly redesigning his nephew if Masaki hadn't died. But such speculation escaped any weight or worth now that the clan had procured a far better guarantee in Kuchiki Rukia. It had been an egregious lapse in judgement on Ichigo's part. He had become attached to something corporeal and earthly, something much too easy to jeopardise. Was it any wonder that the clan leapt at the chance to exploit that attachment? _

"_How is that friend of yours by the way? She's gained quite the bit of notoriety, hasn't she?"_

* * *

**29th September 2012 – 2222 hours **

Distant rolling thunder, rainwater hitting concrete, glass, and metal, crispy bangs complementing occasional lightning flashes. Those were the accompaniment to the barely audible breaths of 2 people currently in that small, stifling, and barely-lit apartment.

But his unforgiving eyes pierced into her, and she trembled from the raw, animalistic sight of him.

She was right there, petrified in front of him. Looking up at his imposing, shadowy height through eyes saturated with calm dread.

The distance was scant; an easily conquerable interval. Its cessation of presence would be absolute with the most minor of bodily movements.

The barriers were only physical. Surmountable obstacles fashioned by somatic beings; mere hindrances of material origins.

Should he reach for her, unveil her; he would be able to trace her skin. Should his fingers grip her flesh, he would possess her.

Kuchiki Rukia was real. Kuchiki Rukia was tangible.

Kuchiki Rukia was _not _untouchable.

* * *

_**(FLASHBACK) 29th September 2012 – 2016 hours **_

"_Will you finally visit Masaki's grave this year?" _

_Yhwach had arranged for Masaki's remains to be buried, rightfully, and in her designated place, in the clan's cemetery. The deed, which the clan had perceived as an act of preventing additional disgrace, was in truth, his blatant and barefaced revenge against Kurosaki Isshin. His hatred for the man who had swayed his sister was so much so that he would not even spare him the cruelty of further separation._

_Ichigo remained silent, but was not unaffected by the question. He had never been to the site. He wasn't denied the opportunity like his father was, but he had forcefully left the clan immediately after her passing. It had been a chaotic, messy affair. Therefore, he had never once been to his own mother's grave. His constraint could have been conceived as a foolish struggle to convince himself against the loss, had it not been for the fact that he was the first person to see the corpse. _

_Ichigo faulted himself for his mother's passing. But, he blamed the clan just as much for ultimately making it possible for him to make the error that penalised his mother's life, and threw his own into disarray. _

"_Responsibility for that… misfortune doesn't lie upon your shoulders Ichigo," Yhwach casually commented. "Shame about the other one though…" _

_Ichigo gave up on his dinner. Though, it scarcely mattered. He didn't have an appetite to begin with._

* * *

**29th September 2012 – 2222 hours **

Would Rukia taste as sweet as he had always fantasised?

His gaze fell towards her neck.

So beautiful.

So vulnerable.

She was a sovereign's delicacy; a deceptively frail fruit whose warmth held key to wicked promises of unrestrained fulfilment; a safe haven for those scornful of control; a temple for the luxuriously licentious.

If he could possess the boldness he sorely craved, he would run his tongue over her pulse, suck on the skin he so ravenously coveted, and feel the fervour rushing through that deliciously delicate artery. If he could liberate the bridled desperation he suffered within, he would place his weary head upon her seat of affection, sigh out his repletion, and savour the sound of that blood-pumping organ. If he could relinquish himself to simple greed, he would gift himself the privilege of breathing her in, revel in that scent which haunted his senses, and indulge in the affirmation of her animate existence.

* * *

_**(FLASHBACK) 29th September 2012 – 2200 hours **_

_Shihoin Yoruichi dialled Ichigo's number for the third time that night. She knew her brother had had dinner with their nephew that night. _

_Those around her chaffed her worrying. Yhwach might not have meant anything by it. It may very well have been just a dinner. Then again, her brother rarely did anything just for the sake of it. He was a politician to the core, always acting in the interest of status rather than principle. To her brother, deceit and manipulation were normal and necessary to gain advancement. _

_That night, the possibility of foul play which infected everything around Yhwach was particularly rotten with ulterior motive. It was after all, the eve of their sister's death anniversary._

* * *

**29th September 2012 – 2222 hours **

Kurosaki Ichigo felt barely sane. His sole focus was how Kuchiki Rukia was finally within his reach.

In Rukia's mind however, she knew that something was very, very off. She didn't recognise this Ichigo. This persona was cold, serious, and severe. Yet, his face held an expression far sadder than anything she had ever seen him wear.

Ichigo didn't give Rukia a chance to react. In an instant, he had reduced the distance between them into nothing. She couldn't even finish processing what was happening. She was already in his arms; her rain-soaked body caught completely in a gravely taut embrace by a man so much larger and more powerful than herself.

Neither man nor woman moved nor spoke a word, and Ichigo continued to hold Rukia in his arms as strongly as his muscles would allow.

The storm continued to make its presence known as Ichigo carefully released Rukia, and brought his face level to hers with an unnatural caution; as if the slightest inaccurate motion would break the spell that had bewitched them. He caressed the cold, wet skin of her cheek with his own, and welcomed the fact that he was closer to her now more than ever before.

Her absence in his life had been thoroughly tormenting.

Ichigo's hands rose up to her face. His fingers brushed her eyelashes. The touch was so intimate Rukia mutely emitted the breath she had inadvertently held. He placed his thumb over her lips, and stroked the lower lip with just enough pressure to part it from its foil. He felt the wetness of her mouth.

Temptation snared Ichigo.

He kissed her, fearlessly hard and without thought. It knocked the wind out of Rukia.

He ravished her lips. It wasn't long before he forced his way into her mouth. He was demanding. She was breathless. Ichigo was relentless to such a great degree that Rukia was struggling to breathe. Despite that, he showed no signs of surrendering his hold on her, even going as far as lightly nipping her upper lip when she tried to break away for air. They slumped to the floor. It felt like he was swallowing her.

He was intoxicated with her. He reached between her legs, but the touch was ill-favoured and Rukia immediately recoiled. She had been dragged into his pace, magnetised by him. Nonetheless, she didn't want this. Not now when Ichigo was so unhinged.

She crawled away, and something snapped within Ichigo. He seized her foot, hauled her back, and grabbed her from behind.

"I'm not letting you run away to him! Not to Jaegerjaquez or anyone else!"

He tore at her blouse, sending buttons flying in all directions.

"No! Stop!"

Tears had earnestly begun to fall from Rukia. Her screams were drowned out by the storm. Her struggles seemed non-existent, overwhelmingly overrun by Ichigo's strength.

Ichigo bit into her shoulder, drawing blood. Rukia cried out.

The subsequent occurrences were blurred by the sting of Ichigo's bite, but there was a sudden loss of Ichigo's weight on her body as a faceless voice loudly impelled her to get the hell away from there.

So, she ran.

* * *

Renji heaved Ichigo off of Rukia and punched him right in his solar plexus. Ichigo lurched back, but roared out his fury when he saw Rukia scurrying out of his line of sight. He gave chase, but Renji grabbed his arm and threw him onto the floor, sending him crashing into a pile of beer cans.

"Get a hold of yourself, you fucking cunt!"

As a reply, Ichigo got up and rammed his body into Renji's, knocking him off his feet, and placing him in a kesa-gatame.

Ichigo looped Renji's head under his arm and held his elbow in a death grip. As long as he kept Renji's elbow off the floor, Ichigo deprived him of the power to escape the side-control hold. Ichigo placed his weight forward and lifted his hips off the floorboards to put pressure on Renji's diaphragm.

Renji fought to rebalance his body and eventually managed to push Ichigo's head away with his free arm. He swung his legs up to scissor Ichigo's head, crossed his ankles, and dragged the two of them into a headlock position. At that point, Renji had the advantage. He tucked his heel into Ichigo's belt, steadied his arms against the other's neck, and sawed himself loose of the headlock to finally arm bar Ichigo into submission.

Ichigo grunted from the pain. Renji had won the brawl.

When Ichigo's body relaxed, Renji released his captive. They laid there in the dark, their breathing harsh and laboured.

"You're a fucking idiot you know that Ichigo? You asked me to look out for Rukia, but after all this time, the only person who has ever come close to hurting her is you yourself," Renji panted.

Ichigo kept quiet.

"What the fuck were you thinking? The obvious aside, did you even stop to consider what the clan will do to her if she squeals about this? Do you really think they'll let her go? She'll be-"

"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? I can't beat the clan, I can't beat Jaegerjaquez, for Christ's sake I can't even beat you!" Ichigo quickly rose to his feet.

Renji flinched at the insult. He got up as well, and considered giving Ichigo a further beating just to prove a point.

"Tell me. What the fuck can I possibly do to keep her? What more can I give to have the woman I love without giving her a giant target on her back?"

"You don't love her. You're fucking obsessed with her! She's a fixation to you."

"I love her."

"But she doesn't love you! She's just your fucking neighbour Ichigo. She's just a girl who showed you some kindness and you've gone and placed a significance upon her that far outweighs what's real. It's all in your head."

"That's bullshit. I know I love Rukia."

"Well you can't fucking have her! Not unless you're satisfied with a dead body."

Ichigo's shoulders slumped, and Renji chastised himself for the slip-up.

"Look, Ichigo, none of this will work out if you keep keeping secrets," Renji sighed, scratching a phantom itch on his head.

"Tell me everything Ichigo, and tomorrow we'll go visit your mother."


End file.
